


Demon wankers and Dinner dates

by Widow_Spyder



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Injury, Kind of a sickfic, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:09:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18410363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Widow_Spyder/pseuds/Widow_Spyder
Summary: In all retrospect, John’s going to blame this one on the blood-loss.





	Demon wankers and Dinner dates

“Bloody demon wanker and ‘s stupid claws!” John cursed into the dark alleyway. Dark red cuts were littered all over his back and torso, bleeding sluggishly down his ruined shirt. Not enough that he’d bleed out, but enough that he was lightheaded and just way too exhausted for anything.

 _Oh, there’s a demon in town that’s murdering the poor sods who feel despair over dead loved ones? Yeah, take the job Constantine, what a brilliant idea that was._ John thought as he limped towards the open street, being sure to button up his signature trench coat to hide his injuries. 

As much as he would love to go back to his apartment, lay waste to a bottle of whiskey and collapse for the next week, he had made plans. 

Specifically, he had made plans for dinner with his boyfriend. A date night, Des had called it. Of all the nights he had to face a bloodthirsty demon with claws the size of his head, it had to be tonight… 

But no matter, John could push through another hour or two of semi-social environments and a delicious dinner. He just had to stay focused and keep his composure. And also, not throwing up would be good too. John could already feel on-coming nausea from over-exerting himself start to set in. 

Pushing down that feeling, John cleared his throat and entered Des’s bar, immediately heading to his regular seat where his date was waiting. 

Des was dressed in a more formal shirt and jeans instead of his usual cooking outfit that he usually wore when working. It kind of made John feel a little guilty that he hadn’t put in any thought to his appearance at all. He was more concerned with the slices the demon tried to take out of him than to try to look good. 

A stop at their apartment to change wouldn’t have hurt but would have been troublesome all the same. A stop would mean that he’d have to face the temptation of rest and relaxation, but that would also mean blowing off Des who was waiting for him. He was already late as taking care of the demon took longer than expected, and John had walked straight from the exorcism to the bar. 

So he plastered on a smile, mirroring the one Des had on his face and slid into the empty seat to the right of his lover. 

“Sorry, luv, job took longer than expected..” John apologized, taking in more interest to the filled plates in front of him than Des’s face. “Been waiting long?”

“It was worth the wait.” Des shrugged. “Now let’s dig in before the food gets any colder.”

John hummed in response as Des started explaining what kind of food was in front of him and how he’d made it. He should’ve known that his luck was failing him as Des’s voice became muffled, a cloud rolling into his head. 

John stared down at his plate and watched the food start to twist and contort. His mind already playing tricks on him as the sting on his back continued to worsen. A fever was starting to creep in from the cuts he’d gotten mere hours ago as infection began to swirl in. His body felt hot, and he could no longer hear the noises of the diner. 

Shaking himself, John grabbed his glass, in an effort to regain his composure, only for it to stop halfway to his mouth. 

Suddenly, he didn’t feel very good. 

_Stay focused, John! You’ve gotten through worse than this.._ John mentally yelled at himself. _This is for Des, the guy, you somehow managed, to fall in love with. Don’t disappoint ‘em you tosser!_

Yet, keeping up the image of “being fine” was proving to be more difficult than he thought. All he could think about was the uncomfortable feeling of blood slowly falling down his back. 

Unfortunately for him, Des noticed. He knew something was off when John had first walked into the restaurant and wouldn’t meet his gaze. His worry only heightened when he noticed little spots of blood on the collar of John’s shirt and the unmistakable quivering of his body. 

What’s worse, was that John was trying to hide it. He knew the signs of when John was in pain, yet he was pushing his own feelings behind so that they could have a nice dinner. Screw the dinner! They can do this tomorrow or the day after or any freakin’ day of the week! John didn’t have to risk his own wellbeing just so that they could act like a regular couple!

John and his over-stoic attitude…

John, on the other hand, was using all his leftover strength not to pass out on the spot. He needed an energy high, something to make him forget the aches and pains of his recent tangle with hell. Getting his blood sugar back up would help a lot, but that would require eating, and the thought of that alone made his stomach churn in discomfort. 

His thoughts were interrupted though as a familiar hand appeared in his line of vision and gently tore the shaking glass from him. 

When had his hands started shaking? 

Oh, the diner. He was having dinner. Dinner with Des... Des!

Once realization came back, everything hit him at once. A tidal wave of the diners noise flooded his ears, and for a second he thought he was going to hurl. 

John groaned, squeezing his eyes closed, as he waited for the feeling to pass. 

One second. 

30 seconds. 

One minute. 

The noises weren’t as loud anymore, but it still bothered his ears. His head, on the other hand, felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Sweat was beaded on his forehead, and he was pretty sure that if the room didn’t stop spinning, then he would most definitely throw up on the floor. 

“Johnny?” A voice sliced through the heavy fog that had settled over his brain.

John followed it and tried turning his head a bit to face the owner of the voice. 

Big mistake. 

As soon as his head moved, it exploded, shooting up from his neck and spreading everywhere. A migraine or concussion, John wasn’t sure. 

If his head didn’t hurt so much, he might’ve been concerned about the fact that he was falling out of his chair. But he was too tired to care. 

Instead of the hard floor, he presumed he would fall on; he fell right into someone’s chest. Open arms waiting for him, recognizing the signs. 

But the movement of the transition made the pain heighten, and John found himself whimpering and trying to escape. But the arms connected to the chest just wrapped around him, trapping him. 

No. No, he was back with that demon..

He’d never made it back to the bar. The demon sprayed him with some hallucinogenic substance and was going to kill him in a death grip. 

John started struggling even harder, despite how much pain it was causing him. 

He had to get back home. Back home to the dinner dates, and movie marathons. The balcony smokes and late morning cuddles. He had to get back to Des. 

“Johnny, please.” 

That voice again. No, he wouldn’t let it win — not this time. 

He had something to go back to now. He was living a normal person's life, and by god, he wasn’t going to let this monster kill him and take that away. 

“It’s me! Des!” The voice pleaded. “Please, calm down!” 

Des? Why was Des here? No no, it was that illusion spell… tricking him into giving up. Wait wasn’t it a spray? Demons can’t do spells. 

“Johnny, open your eyes.”

Were his eyes still closed? 

“That’s it; come on.” 

With, what felt like, the maximum amount of effort, John opened his eyes and forced them to focus on the blob in front of him. That blob being the worried face of Des staring back at him as his fingers shifted from under his neck. 

“Hey, you really scared me there,” Des whispered. “You passed out, and I moved you to the backroom.” 

Ah, so that explained the sudden change in scenery as well as his new position on a couch.

“How - how long?” John tried to say only for his voice to come out as a pathetic croak, leading him to start coughing up his lungs. Des immediately helped him sit up and rubbed his back, waiting for it to pass. 

John weakly groaned and fell back into the couch, once the fit subsided. It was then that he’d noticed his trenchcoat was open, revealing the bloody and torn shirt underneath. 

“Johnny, what happened?” Des asked, looking him in the eye. 

John cleared his throat as he answered. “Demon wanker had claws.” 

Des sighed and nodded his head, putting the pieces together. 

“Guess I didn’t see ‘em coming.” 

Des snorted in a ‘yeah that’s obvious’ kind of way. “And you didn’t go to a doctor, because?”

“I had more important things to get to.” 

“Really…” Des groaned. “The cuts are infected now, you wanker!” 

“Huh, never noticed.” John closed his eyes only to reopen them. “Hey, you stole my lingo.” 

“Huh, I never noticed.” Des mocked. “Come on; let’s get you home.”

Des slid his arm around John’s waist and draped one of John’s arms over his shoulder. Together they got off the couch and started heading for the back exit. 

“Wait, wai- what about dinner.” John slurred, the momentum of getting up, making him dizzy again. 

“Forget about the dinner, Johnny, we’ll do it another time.” Des sighed. 

“You sure, luv?”

“Positive, let’s go home.” 

“Alright..”

***

The walk home was slow and quiet as Des led his lethargic boyfriend back to their apartment.

It was frustratingly worrying that John wasn’t saying anything. Usually, he’d complain if his body ached, whining like a wounded animal when he’d sleep wrong and wake up with stiff muscles. But nothing came out of John’s mouth except for tiny mewls or grunts when his body was jostled a little too much. 

Finally, they made it inside and immediately headed over to their bathroom. Des propped John up on the rim of the bathtub as he searched for the first aid kit. 

It was easy to spot, being bigger than most kits and quite honestly seemed out of place in their small cabinet. But Des was grateful because the bigger the kit was, the more supplies it would have. 

After setting up the necessary stuff and turning on the tap to the bathtub, Des crouched in front of John to examine him. 

John's eyes were closed, and little puffs of air were coming out of his mouth. If Des didn’t know any better, he’d say John had fallen unconscious. Luckily for him, he did know John better than that. 

Lightly slapping the smaller man's face, Des watched John blearily open his eyes, making Des wince with sympathy. 

John’s pupils were dilated and unfocused, and it was quite obvious he was in pain just by being awake. 

“I’m going to clean your cuts, alright? I know you want to go back to sleep but just a couple more minutes..” Des assured. “Think you can manage?”

John smiled crookedly and nodded, stiff arms reaching up to remove his clothes, eventually relying on Des to wrestle him out of them. 

Des held in a gasp, as he took in the sight before him. Dozens of scratches and cuts had been torn into John’s back and chest. They weren’t bleeding anymore, thank goodness, but they did leave little trails of blood down his skin when they had been bleeding. How John managed not to cringe or squirm as they oozed, was something Des didn’t want to question. Instead, he helped John get into the bath without jarring any more injuries. 

John sighed as the warm water engulfed his aching muscles and if it weren’t for Des holding him up, he would’ve drowned right then and there. God, he was so tired. 

“Couple more minutes John, remember?” Des soothed, grabbing the set out washcloth and getting to work, scrubbing all the blood and grime off John’s back. Nothing needed stitches which was good and surprisingly enough, nothing seemed to be too infected either. Some ointment after the bath, bandages and some painkillers and John would be good as new. 

John nodded slightly opening his eyes and with whatever strength he had left, started soaping up his chest and stomach. 

Silence filled the room for a while until Des spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. “How could you let it get this bad?”

John almost didn’t hear him. He felt Des’s fingers glide over his skin, gently pressing against, what he assumed, were dark bruises only now being discovered after the dried blood was washed away. He let his shoulders fall from their previous tensed up position. 

“Didn’t want to skip out on date night.” Was the answer John came up with. 

“You know we can do that anytime right?” Des scrubbed over a particularly sensitive spot making John wince. “I am a cook after all.” 

“Tonight’s special… didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, you could never ruin anything, Johnny” Des softly kissed Johns forehead, finally finished cleaning his back. 

“Wanna bet?” John smirked his signature grin, though it was strained, Des assumed from the exhaustion. 

“Hm, let's get you into bed.”

Des unplugged the bath and let the slightly pink water drain a little before helping John get out. 

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” John grit out through clenched teeth as he struggled to dry himself off without falling over. 

Des actually found it more difficult to rub in the antibiotics to John’s skin than to bathe him as John kept leaning against him, unable to stand very long. 

Eventually, both of them made it to the bed with John dressed in sweatpants that were a size too big for him and a loose T-shirt, also too big for him. 

Painkillers were taken, a bucket was placed beside John’s side of the bed — just in case, of course — and finally, they both could settle for the night. 

John was more than grateful to pass out on the spot, not even trying to get under the blankets. 

Des sighed for what felt like the twelfth dozen time that night and maneuvered the sheets to wrap around his sleepy warlock. 

“Are you mad?” John’s hoarse voice suddenly rang out. “You seem mad.”

Des was taken aback. “No, no I’m -“ 

“‘M sorry, I didn’t want our evening to end like this. ‘M sorry Des.” John's voice was partly muffled due to him, squishing his face into the pillow but Des could swear he heard his voice crack. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m not angry with you.” 

Des pulled himself under the covers and gently wrapped himself around John’s body, careful not to hurt him. 

“You're not mad at me?”

“Of course not, I’m just…” Des fumbled over the right words. “I’m just really tired.” 

“Me too.”

Silence once again, as Des felt John’s breath start to even out. 

John could feel the painkillers taking effect, drowning out his other senses to fully embrace unconscious. He could no longer feel the pain from the cuts; instead, he felt Des’s body heat. A warm and grounding solid being behind helping him fall asleep even faster. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. He still had to get one last thing in. 

“Love you.” He mumbled almost incoherently, hoping to god that Des heard him as sleep pulled him under. 

The last thing John heard before darkness overtook him was “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> GOD I AM SO SORRY I haven't written anything for weeks! AN ENTIRE MONTH I AM SO FREAKIN SORRY!!!
> 
> School is so complicated and busy for me right now and so many things are happening but that's not an acceptable excuse, I'm sorry I've been M.I.A. this entire time. 
> 
> I have been keeping tabs though! And I've been thinking of writing for other fandoms as well other than just Lot and Constantine, so if any of you have watched the Umbrella Academy, expect something from there in the future. 
> 
> New episodes (Lot) are here and I'm so pumped!
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!


End file.
